The Light on the Dark Side
by ArchFaith
Summary: Six months after Suikoden II, Sierra finds herself on the road with Nash Latkje once again, pondering the same question she has pondered for quite some time...is love worth the risk...or isn't it? Reviews greatly welcome.


Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Special note: I just had to write another one. I JUST HAD TO!!

**IMPORTANT BACKGROUND INFO**

Just to clear things up…this story takes place about six months after the end of Suikoden II. Sierra Mikain, after careful deliberation, has returned to the western lands to seek Nash Latkje. She finds him in Caleria preparing for another one of his adventures, and decides to stay a while with him while she plans her next move. At this point in the story, they have been traveling together for about a week, and are presently resting in a travelers' inn. Just wanted to make sure no one was confused!!

And now presenting…

The Light on the Dark Side

by ArchFaith

The pale moon was round and full tonight.

Through the frame of the small window she could spy it; that cold, glowing orb, forever bearing down upon the world which it had graced since time immemorial.

And only she could compare to it.

Yes, she thought smugly, the moonlight dancing upon her brow, illuminating her red eyes, playing with the shadows on her cheek. She could compare herself to it.

Beauty, wisdom, immortality—all of these things she possessed. Power, the power to challenge and defeat foes far and wide. Knowledge, the key to so many of the puzzles others could never figure out. Judgment, sound and unfettered by the chains of childhood.

She smiled, her eyes half-open as she lay there, on the soft cushioned mattress, a smooth white blanket draped carelessly over her prone figure. Her wispy silver hair, gently tousled by the soft mantle of sleep, skated gently past her ears; the lids blinked, the full set of lashes framing the dark red eyes, eight hundred years aged.

Nothing could really quite compare itself to Sierra Mikain.

She was quite proud of that fact; yes, indeed. She had never met any other person who could tell similar tales as ones she sometimes told, to those who interested her; any woman possessing even a tenth of her beauty, she found, was full of wild, silly notions of love; and every man, every disgusting fool who had ever laid eyes on her, was not to be trusted with any of her treasured memories.

_Ah, but then, are you a man, Nash Latkje? Or a spirit? Have you lived only one lifetime, or many? Or have I met you before, somewhere, a century or two ago?_

She pondered the questions as, seemingly in response, the hand which had so possessively wrapped around her waist flexed its fingers.

She let out a deep breath and sighed. Keeping her voice low, she whispered, with only the slightest inflection, "Are you awake?"

She could feel his eye lashes open and close against the nape of her neck. The sound of his quiet breathing seemed close to her ear, and his hand, which was previously resting on her waist, had now ascended upwards to stroke her hair.

"Yeah," was his sleepy, half-coherent response.

Without turning round she continued. "How long have you been lying there idle?"

"I just woke up. Didn't you ask me something?"

"I did no such thing. You must be hearing things."

He kissed the back of her neck. "Hmm…I must."

She was slightly amused by the fact that he had been able to piece together, from all her different thoughts and emotions, an interpretation of her question. Quite clever for a mortal boy.

She blinked several times, as the room started to come completely into view. Just a simple room. The room of a small inn somewhere, no doubt. Wooden walls, a large window. A cabinet and chest of drawers, and a nightstand near the bed, and a quilted rug upon the floor. A chair that lay next to the bed held her discarded clothes. And his as well.

And still, even though it was just a room—a nondescript little space in a forgettable hostelry—she felt as though it were the most secure place in the universe.

Her legs were curled into his, and she could feel the muscles of his chest pressing up against her back as he continued to play with her silvery hair. Feigning exasperation, she whispered, "What are you doing?"

"Mmmm," came his sleepy voice. "I don't…I don't know…"

Ah, he was still half-asleep. Nothing he said was coherent. She remembered when she could fall asleep like he did, back when she was a mortal—when she could not distinguish the difference between dreams and reality, when she would sit up in bed and wonder what exactly she had done during the night.

She was unable to dream so freely any longer. Ever since the True Moon Rune came into her power, nearly eight centuries ago, her dreams were cold, and lonely, and somehow filled her with an unending since of eternity. Only mortals dreamt of color, and light, and music. She could not.

"Tch," came his sluggish voice again. "Of course you can."

Hmm. This was an irregularity. Was…was he—to use an archaic term—reading her mind, so to speak? In the consciousness between rest and waking, could he somehow tap into the inner sanctuary of her brain?

"What are you babbling on about?" she asked cautiously, shifting slightly so she could face him. "I did not say a word."

His half-open eyes blinked, and a playful smiled formed on his lips. "You …you can't fool me, old girl..."

This was exasperating! Was he telepathic? Or just a fool? Perhaps, in the world between the unconscious and the living, a previously unknown power had revealed itself to him. Perhaps he was now using it to his advantage.

She sighed. "You are not at all amusing to converse with you are half-asleep, Nash Latkje. Even more so than when you are awake."

The smirk appeared on his face once more as he blinked.

Sierra scowled and turned back over. "Now, if you don't mind, I am going to get some rest. My journey was not exactly a short walk."

"I know," he answered, his hand moving to squeeze her shoulder. He seemed to be more awake now; his eyes, previously glazed with sleep, were now bright; his entire face seemed to display an expression of understanding. "Do you want me to move over?"

"No," was her simple response. "But stop all this caressing. You may lie behind me, but for heavens' sake, stop touching me. All your so-called affection is beginning to make me ill."

"Aw," he replied, retaining his gentle grip on her arm. "You didn't seem as annoyed by it last night."

She sighed in exasperation. "Making love and actually being in love are entirely different things, young one. You will learn that through all the years of your life."

His tender tone did not change. "I see, I see. Guess you don't love me after all. I made a deal with Dominguez, you know…"

Although in jest, his answer caught her off-guard. Why, why of all times did he have to mention it now? The thought of love had been ever-present in her mind as soon as she departed from him the first time—after their narrow brush with death at the hands of Rean Penenberg. All through the chance meeting of the 108 Stars, through the long, devious war she had helped to fight—through her "romantic entanglement" with that stiff Klaus Windamier, a ghost of a man whom she had attached herself to. And through the long, cold paths leading towards Harmonia after the war, in each and every weary step she took, cursing herself for caring so much about a simple mercenary whose blood she had once taken—she thought of love.

"…six thousand potch," Nash continued as she broke out of her reverie.

"Stop all this nonsense," she spat, scowling. She callously pushed his fingers off her arm and turned onto her side, her nerves suddenly shaken by the accidental suggestion that one little word had induced.

"Alright, alright," he answered. Even though she could not view his face she was certain there was a faint grin on his lips. He settled in next to her, his forehead brushing against her hair. "Shall we go back to sleep, my beloved?"

"I ordered you to stop," she answered, pulling her head away from his. "I am weary of this talk. Be quiet. I desire rest."

"Sleepy, eh, old girl?" he asked, apparently not buying her excuse. No—when Nash Latke was in the mood to talk, talk he did. "I would've thought a vampire would be most awake at night. Out, hunting somebody to bite." She could feel his break against her cheek as he leaned up behind her, and smilingly placed his face close to hers. "Or did you already find your victim tonight?"

"If you had any ounce of knowledge within you, you would know that I do need to survive off the blood of a _mortal_ any longer," she hissed. "My Rune provides all the nourishment I need."

"I see, I see," he answered. Contrary to her wishes he gently smoothed a piece of her wispy hair between his fingers. "Guess it wouldn't be quite correct to just tell the truth and say I kept you up all night, huh?"

Her first impulse—to reach out and crush his windpipe between her supple fingers—was quickly suppressed. Instead she simply sighed, and closed her eyes. It was not a night for such trivialities. "You can talk all you want, Nash. It is of no importance to me."

She felt him stir uncomfortably next to her. He had probably been expecting her to attack him, or to inflict some painful physical punishment on him, as she usually did when he insulted her to that degree. Choosing to recognize his confusion, she opened her eyes again. Somehow, she felt she could not ignore it.

"You expected me to reciprocate negatively, did you not?" she asked, smoothing her hair out of her eyes.

"Well, yeah," he admitted, pulling the blanket tighter around him. "I thought as soon as I said it that you were going to—hmm, let's see…bite me, scratch me, punch me…"

Very amusing, to hear his expectations of her. She had never thought herself as one to be predictable. But somehow he could read into her; he knew her mannerisms and her usual courses of action, and this knowledge, in a way, unsettled her as she thought of it.

_He knows me._

"…I am not always so harsh, you fool," she found herself whispering. "It is true…usually I am very disagreeable to you. Usually I do enjoy hurting you, degrading you, insulting you…well, you understand. But not tonight. Tonight is different."

He cocked his head as she turned on her back to face him, her silvery hair spread out over the pillow they shared. Her eyes shifted sideways to view him.

She did not know what made her do it; she did not know where she found the voice to express her true sentiments; but somehow it was within her, and the statement was upon her lips before she could stop herself.

"Listen closely…I am going to tell you something I would not normally tell you."

He nodded, and lay his head down next to hers. "What?"

The ceiling and walls of the room seemed to melt away as her next breath came up and out of her windpipe, and traveled down the dark corridors of her soul. The sky was blue; the grass, a bright shade of emerald. The sun was shining down upon the peaceful little village; the simple peasant cottages built of straw and stone, the children running happily down the dirt path; the beautiful young girl, sitting barefoot under a tree, thinking of her next adventure as she wistfully played with her short blonde hair.

Oh, her skin was so tanned back then. Like his.

…Not now. She couldn't think of this kind of this infernal memory now. She shook herself out of the long ago remembrance and found herself once again in the room at the inn, lying there as he tucked the blankets around her and waited for her to speak. Should she speak? Could she really tell him what was happening inside her head, her true feelings about their situation?

"Perhaps you can tell me why, Nash Latkje," she began, speaking slowly and cautiously, "why it is…that…that every time I look at you, hear your voice, feel your touch…_I am reminded of myself?_"

Her last statement surprised her. She had not thought as she said it, and now, finding she could not regret it, continued. "You are very young, very naïve…an adventurer, someone who seeks excitement, and yet, will not give up when you find something difficult. You are very passionate, so caring about others…even when they do not care about you. You just follow your impulses." Her voice wavered momentarily. "I used to be like you…I used to be the way you are now…I too craved adventure and excitement, but loved and treasured my family and friends more than anything in the world…I was optimistic, lively, impulsive…all those things. When I came into possession of the True Moon Rune, I was forced to become another person—one who abhorred who she was and what she did. I became the way you see me now. And now, when I have lived eight hundred years on this forsaken world…I see myself again. My old self; my mortal self. I see it in you."

She was aware that red tears were starting to form underneath her eyes, and let them gather until he reached out and wiped them away with his fingers. His face was unreadable—he had been listening intently, and now that her story was done, seemed not to know what emotion he should take. Reaching up, he laid a hand on her silvery forehead. She swallowed, her throat dry as she looked back at him.

His voice quivered slightly as he spoke. "Thank you, Sierra."

"Thank you? For what?"

"For…for telling me all this. For coming back to find me. For keeping your promise." He smiled as he curled the ends of her hair around his fingers. "I didn't say it before…but I should have."

She sighed. "You are indeed forgetful, boy." She took a lock of his blonde hair between her fingers and sighed. "And there it is…I have told you all that I kept locked within me. All my secrets, my joys, my memories…you have it. It is the only thing I can give you."

His face turned serious as he stared back at her, thoughtful as he studied her moonlight face contrasting with the glowing red in her eyes. His hand reached to her cheek; she closed her eyes as he gently stroked the soft white skin. "Can I ask you a favor, old girl?" he requested, his voice low and serious.

"Favor? Of what sort?" she asked, surprised by the nature of his inquiry.

"Sierra…I want you to do something for me."

"Do what? Speak plainly."

"…you can give more to me than what you already have. You've told me all these things…allowed me to listen…and I treasure that. I really do. But there's one thing you haven't done—and if you have done it…well, I'm just not sure."

"What is it, Nash?" she asked, unusually patient with him.

He gently leaned forward to kiss her closed eyelids, his shoulder brushing against her chin. "You have to let yourself love me, Sierra."

Love? Love! Had he uttered the horrid word once again? Oh, why now, after the peace that had descended upon her? Why? The question fluttered through her mind as she nearly bolted up, raising her head so quickly that her forehead bumped against his.

"To—to love you?" she asked, her voice quick with irritation. "Why—why do you ask this? Is it not enough, to keep my promise, to return to you, to tell you all my remembrances…but to love you? It—it is not—"

"Sierra!" he cried, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Why? Why can't you do it? Don't you feel it, old girl? Didn't you feel it the night you left me after the fight with Rean? Didn't you feel it a month ago when you set out for Caleria, to find me? Didn't you feel it when we made love last night?!"

"Stop! Stop all this!" The tears were once again gathering under her eyelids; when he moved to brush them away, she fiercely slapped his hand back. "I cannot! I cannot do it! I am too broken…too impure…to love someone such as you. I am too much a coward, Nash. I admit it! But do not ask me, do not!"

He was silent as she sobbed, the bloody tears flowing freely down her face as she turned away from him, clutching the blanket to her body as she cried, her spirit broken, her courage diminished. She could not! Loving a mortal would only lead to despair. And loving an immortal, she had learned, would lead to the same despair. How much destruction had she caused by loving someone? How much hate?

And he…young, pure Nash Latkje...he could not fall into the trap of love for her. She would not allow it to occur. She would not allow the same corruption that had become her way of life to become his as well.

She threw the blankets off her body and quickly rose, her white skin shimmering in the pale moon's presence. "This was a mistake, Nash," she said as she headed to the chair where her skirt and cloak lay. "I should not have returned. I see now that we have both made errors. My coming back to you is but a hindrance to both of our lives. I am leaving; you shall not see me again."

In a flash he was out of bed, and had both his arms around her; and try as she might, even with her super-human strength, she could not find the power to break out of his arms.

"Don't go, Sierra! How can you come back only to leave me again? Why? Why can't you love me? Tell me why!"

"Nash!" she screamed warningly, trying to push him away. "Can't you see? I cannot love you because I can not allow the same fate that befell me to come to you as well! If I love you and you remain mortal, you will grow old and die; and if I love you and make a vampire…Nash, I will not see you grow weary, jaded, grey, as I have become! I want you to live your life well, to find someone who will love you, and, most of all, to die a happy death. I will not watch as eternity engulfs you, captures you and cages you as it has done with me. I will not."

He had loosened his grip on her now; but she remained in his arms, arms pressed up against his chest, head resting on his shoulder. Her hands had tightened into fists, resting tensely against his shoulders, the red tears streaming down her face.

Eternity passed between them; it seemed that entire passages of hours and days and weeks danced through the air in the blink of an eye as he held her tightly, their unclothed bodies pressed up against each other, the moonlight making shadows and glints of light upon her back, his arm, both their legs.

He gently brought his hand up to caress her cheek, and she lifted her face to look into his glistening blue eyes. But their radiance was not a natural gift; she watched as a drop of water formed at the base of his eyelashes and slowly made its way down his cheek.

"You already love me, old girl," he whispered as more tears formed and pooled at the bottom of his blinking eyes.

The realization hit her as, spurred on by his sudden show of deep affection, the red lines which had streaked their way down her face sudden increased in number. She pulled the anguished young man to her, her arms circling behind his back as his arms came around her waist.

He had seen it, he had felt it—he had confirmed it when she became so adamant about actually admitting that she did…

That she did love him.

No, she could not keep it within her any longer!

But how? How could this be? How could she, an immortal, continue to love a mortal boy when she knew that one day she would have to make him like her…cold, dead, a monster!

She could not allow it to happen…and yet, she knew that if she truly did not care for him, it would not have made a difference to her whether he became a vampire or not.

But it did. It really did.

"Are you willing to go through this, Nash Latkje?" she ventured as felt his tears drop down upon her face. "Are you willing to sacrifice your mortality for me? Are you willing to live forever, to watch the world change, to see as good friends grow old and die while you remain the same?"

"But _you_ won't grow old and die, Sierra," he whispered back as he drew back to look at her, to witness her pale face streaked with red, as her eyes, in their anguish, had almost begun to bleed themselves. "I meant what I said six months ago, old girl…"

_If it will ease your loneliness, Sierra…then after a few more years of living as a mortal I would become a vampire for you._

She continued to embrace him as he brought his hand up to stroke her hair. "But I cannot allow it, Nash. I will not see the same thing that happened to me happen to you as well."

He smiled, a melancholy expression that penetrated through her entire soul. "If you can go through it alone…I can certainly go through it with you."

"You won't take no for an answer, will you?"

"It's not my choice that matters."

She sighed. She could not bring him into this! She could not love him, she could not grow attached to him. If he remained a mortal during their time together, he would grow old and die; and if she made him a vampire, would he become like Rean—cruel, broken-hearted, dead?

No! No…she loved him too much…

_You are indeed cruel, Nash Latkje! Why do I see myself in you every time I look at you? Why did I return here, to this desolate place? Why do I care for you like this?_

Outside, the sky had brightened considerably. The moon was beginning to fade into the dark blue night of the early morning, sending out feeble rays of light as it struggled to remain prominent in her point of vision. She raised her head.

Birds were starting to sing their morning songs now; the low noise of the crickets perched on the blades of grass was beginning to fade; and soon the sun would rise, a deep yellow sphere sending its never-ending light out upon the world.

She ran her hands up and down his bare back, feeling the warmth of his body as he continued to bury his head into her shoulder, suddenly overcome with feeling as she watched the moon glint and then disappear behind the thick clouds of the early morning sky.

_You are the lantern within the dark cave, the candle holding its ground during the fiercest storm, the lighthouse guiding lost vessels to safety. Oh, you are the light within me, the light that was buried and forgotten, and afraid. _

She gently brought her hands up to his blonde hair, and smoothed it back out of his eyes. "Go back to sleep, boy," she commanded gently. "I will still be here when you wake."

The End

Note: Well! Hope you liked that! It's a lot more dramatic than "She Loves You", but about on the same level as "Always Kiss Me Goodnight". I think I did an alright job on characterization of both Nash and his Sierra…but you be the judge of that, eh? Please review! Comments and constructive criticism welcome!

Oh…and in case you're wondering where the title, "The Light on the Dark Side" came from…it's from a song called "Kiss from a Rose" by Seal. It's my favorite song!! The lyrics remind me so much of Nash and Sierra!!

Listen!!

_There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea  
__You became the light on the dark side of me  
__Love remains a drug that's the high not the pill  
__B__ut did you know, that when it snows  
__My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen_

Alright, enough of that. Go download it, cause it's awesome! And stay tuned…I might have another Nash/Sierra fic in the works for ya'll. Watch out for it!


End file.
